


design-a-date

by MsMaarvel



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Lance has anxiety, M/M, Minor Hunk/Shay, POV Alternating, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-21
Updated: 2016-10-27
Packaged: 2018-08-15 16:20:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8063347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsMaarvel/pseuds/MsMaarvel
Summary: “Hunk, help. He’s hot.” Lance switches his phone between his hands. “He can’t type or use spell check to save his life, apparently, but he’s mad hot.”“How hot are we talking?” Hunk asks from the other end of the line.“Like, making-a-mullet-work hot.” Lance lets it sink in. “That NEVER happens, and you know it!”“Okay, I’ll give you that.”Sighing wistfully, Lance thinks of the attached selfies as he paces the tiny space that is his cluttered dorm room. Design patterns and unfinished works lay scattered haphazardly on every surface. “His selfies were exactly what I’m looking for, too.”“Dude.” Hunk interrupted his daydreaming. “Are you looking for a model or a boyfriend?”





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for checking out my fic!! Please don't take it too seriously, I have 0 fashion knowledge other than basic internet-fueled research.

Voltron University Fashion Week. It’s not widely considered a big deal outside of the Clothing and Textiles Design major, but it is the biggest deal for the future social and career connections of these students involved. For others, it’s a chance to make some extra cash, as each person involved is looking for a model and being very generous to assure investments for their future.

Model requirements, as per Fashion Week rules:

  1. Modeling student is not a Clothing and Textiles Design major.
  2. Modeling student does not have shared classes with the design student this semester.
  3. Modeling student is compensated for time either monetarily from design student or with volunteer hours via the school.
  4. Modeling student must be available for all of the following listed hours with the only scheduling conflicts acceptable being unseen circumstances.



Upon leaving his geology lecture, Keith came face to face with a man struggling to balance a stack of fliers. His presence was clogging the exit of students from the lecture hall and it was annoyingly inconvenient, but the man and fliers catch his interest.

The guy was only slightly taller than him, and had shorter brown hair and a cutely flustered look on his face as a few of his fliers fall to the ground. The fliers were very blue and eye catching, but also contained the phrase “paid position” which is all Keith needed to see. He was broke.

Winking at the already-flustered man he grabbed a flier from his hand and went on his merry way.

Keith didn’t have any time to actually read over the flier, and ended up completely forgetting he had it until he was checking his geology folder for his take-home quiz later that night.

“ _Modeling?_ ” Keith scoffed once he started reading. The flier stated that someone named Lance, probably the guy from before, was looking for a model for this year's Fashion Week. It was something Keith had heard of briefly when it happened last year, but hadn’t come on his radar other than that.

The paper also had a contact number and email address. Not feeling confident enough to send a text, let alone call, Keith sets the flier aside and gives himself time to consider it for later. He cracks open his textbook to get this quiz out of the way before his noisy roommate returned.

 

* * *

 

Keith’s room was one of the cheapest on campus, but it was the most convenient for casual hangouts because it was more central than Shiro’s off-campus apartment. It’s there that Keith broaches the topic of modeling to Shiro, hoping for some sort of help in the decision-making process.

“I mean, what do you think?” He asks after he recounts the encounter he’d had with the stranger Lance.

“I think you need to play down just how attractive you _obviously_ think he is.” Keith blushes and coughs uncomfortably, he hadn’t realized he was being that obvious. “I mean, c’mon, he’s just a guy handing out fliers and you wink at him? I wouldn’t want to encourage him, but I guess if he’s your type….?”

“Oh my god, Shiro.” Keith grumbles, not making eye contact. “That is not what I need your help with here, believe it or not.”

“No, I know, I just can’t pass up an opportunity to give you shit. I think it’ll broaden your horizons, though. Modeling might give you something else to do besides be a professional emo.” Shiro encourages. “I know Lance, he’s completely ridiculous, but he cares about his craft and he’s absolutely desperate after last years fiasco.”

“You’re one to talk about being emo, you don’t go a day without wearing eyeliner do you? Why don’t you do it?” Keith asks. “And what fiasco?”

“I kind of promised Allura I’d be her model? Plus I’ve got a bio lecture with Lance, so I don’t fit the requirements with him. As for the fiasco…. You don’t know?”

Squinting, Keith gives Shiro a dubious look. “Should I?”

“It was very dramatic, but that’s a story for Lance to tell you if you end up working with him. I’d hurry with contacting him, he’s an acquired taste so you need to get to know him before he goes into fashion mode.”

Keith puts his hands up at chest level. “You’re scaring me, Shiro. What’s fashion mode?”

“You’re so into him. I’m not trying to scare you away from Lance, I promise.” Shiro laughs shortly, but doesn’t elaborate on what Lance’s ‘fashion mode’ might include. Instead, he changes the subject. “Want to grab dinner?”

“God yes, I’m starving.” He didn’t deny his interest, but made a mental note to try and be less obvious, especially if he was going to be around Lance more often in the upcoming weeks.

 

* * *

 

 _SLAM_ is the only warning Pidge gets before her name is shouted outside the door. “PIDGE!” Both the slam and shout were audible over her roommate Allura’s music, so it had to be Lance.

Opening the door slowly, Pidge allows a smirk to grow on her face as she asks “Did you run into my door?”

Cupping his nose gently, Lance mumbles his response. “Maybe.”

“What do you need so badly that you’re injuring yourself at my door? Not that it isn’t hilarious in and of itself.”

“Hunk leaves his door unlocked, how was I supposed to know yours wasn’t?” Lance protested defiantly. “Anyway! The reason I’m here. Yeah, that. It’s Fashion Week, Pidge. Not now but, like, in two weeks. And I need a model!”

Pidge scoffed. “Y’know, I’m really flattered but….. Hell no. Anyway, you survived last year, why can’t you use the same person you did then?”

“Not you! I mean you’re great but you just don’t have the height for it or the attitude. And you KNOW why, I told you the story, hot glue gun and all. Kinda ruined her life, something like that. She dropped out after. Anyway!” Lance had to pause to take a breath.

“Yes?”

“I was handing out fliers because I’m, like, desperate for someone whose life I promise not to ruin this year. This guy winked at me?” Lance gestured wildly. “He honest to god winked and I need to find him. He took a flier but that’s no guarantee that he’ll contact me about it but he was perfect and exactly what I’m looking for.”

“You can come in, you know. Sit down and tell me about this mystery man. I’m interested.”

Lance complies and takes a seat on Pidge’s bed, nodding to her roommate Allura before launching into a recount of the black-haired fashion disaster. “Okay he was an absolute mess, crop top jacket and all but he was beautiful? If that makes sense.” Pidge just shrugged. Allura hid a smile behind her hand, she knew Keith. “I saw potential. LIke, he was a mess at the time but as a person he’s gorgeous and I could make him look his best. That’s my thing. I need to find him again.”

Pidge did some searching on Facebook for the mystery man to try and help Lance out, but she couldn’t turn up anything.

“What if I never see him again?” Lance complains.

“The campus isn’t that expansive, you’ll run into him sooner or later even if he doesn’t want to model for you.” Pidge pats his back awkwardly before shooing him from the room. “I’ve got really important stuff to work on. Robotics and junk. Cheer up, if he winked at you, he’s probably interested.”

 

* * *

 

Returning to his room, he leans his head dejectedly on the door frame. When that didn’t garner any sympathy from his roommate Rolo he collapses to the ground, sighing dramatically.

“C’mon, man, you act emo all the time, give me some sympathy! I’m not supposed to be acting like this. Aren’t you worried something’s wrong?”

“I’m more worried that my drama queen of a roommate seems to think that everything’s about him.” Rolo looks up from his console game to give Lance a pointed glare in order to convey how little he cares.

“Fine.” Lance pouts. Retrieving his chemistry work from his desk he tucks it into his backpack. “I’ll be in the library if you ever want to sympathize with my guy problems.” He pauses before adding “Or girl problems, y'know. Any sympathy at all would be great.” Cue roommate sigh.

 

* * *

 

The next day Keith makes up his mind. Swallowing his nerves, Keith cracks his knuckles and opens a new email, and deciding to get it over with as quickly as possible, sends an email out that says

“Lance,

I saw your flier and am interested in the model position if it’s still availible. If not that’s fine, resond asap.

-Keith K”

He attaches a few photos of himself he thought were decent, since the info had also asked for reference photos. His rush caused him to miss a few easily-correctable typos. “Shit.” he rubs the bridge of his nose after reviewing the message he’d impulsively sent. “He’s gonna think I’m an idiot.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the fashion AU nobody (besides me) wanted. literally spurred after i watched one and a half episodes of Project Runway and thinking about the line "they called me 'The Tailor' because of how i thread the needle." i can't wait to incorporate that line next chapter when the two meet for real. If you have your own headcanons for a fashion au or just want to talk about voltron you can find my blog at [staarplatinum](http://staarplatinum.tumblr.com/)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please remember that this is not meant to be serious about fashion, i really know nothing other than what a basic google search can dig up & what i personally think is fashionable, which isn't refined or knowledgeable whatsoever.

“Hunk, help. He’s hot.” Lance switches his phone between his hands. “He can’t type or use spell check to save his life, apparently, but he’s mad hot.”

“How hot are we talking?” Hunk asks from the other end of the line.

“Like, making-a-mullet-work hot.” Lance lets it sink in. “That NEVER happens, and you know it!”

“Okay, I’ll give you that.”

Sighing wistfully, Lance thinks of the attached selfies as he paces the tiny space that is his cluttered dorm room. Design patterns and unfinished works lay scattered haphazardly on every surface. “His selfies were exactly what I’m looking for, too.”

“Dude.” Hunk interrupts his daydreaming. “Are you looking for a model or a boyfriend?”

Lance lets out a startled noise, trying to cover it up with. “Huh?”

“Like it’s fine to think he’s hot or whatever, but this is Fashion Week. You can't let yourself get too distracted, can you? Last year got messy.”

“Last year was different!” Lance protested. However, Hunk, ever the voice of reason, made perfect sense otherwise.

The thing was that Lance just couldn’t get Keith out of his head. It wasn’t only the perspective of a complete makeover as a challenge to test his own skills, it was that Keith had so much beauty already while being as lazily dressed as possible. Baggy sweatshirts shouldn’t work in someone's favor like that. Yet there he is, living proof.

“It’s not that easy, man. He’s like, mesmerizing or something. It’s kind of freaky but at the same time I really don’t mind at all, y’know?”

“You know I understand, I mean I’m with Shay right now for the same reason.”

Lance’s eyes run across a few older sketches, and finding something that he might be able to use as inspiration for this challenge he realized the impact of his friends statement. “Shit! I’m taking up your valuable time! You’re visiting her home for the weekend aren’t you? How’s her family? Have they scared you away yet?”

“N-no. I mean, her brother really tries I think. Her grandmother is so kind and makes the best cinnamon rolls! But I think I love her, Lance.” Hunk faltered for a second at this revelation. “Yeah, I love Shay. It’s not going to be that easy for her brother to get rid of me.”

Lance smiled, not that Hunk could see it. “That’s great, buddy. I’m happy for you, she’s a real catch.”

“Hey, I’ve, uh, got to go. Let me know how things go with Keith once you meet up with him.”

“Oh, I’ll definitly keep you posted. Bye!” Lance chirps as he hangs up, collapsing into bed and sighing again. It was going to be a long three weeks.

Deciding that since he wanted to get to know Keith by starting on the right foot, he decides not to bring up the mistakes in Keith’s original message.

Keith,

hey, ive still got an opening for the model position. talking through the process with you is p time-sensitive, so lmk when ur free next

Lance ‘The Tailor’ McClain

Sent from my iPhone

* * *

Lance’s response email was decidedly not returned ‘ASAP,’ and his own name according to his iPhone was unnecessarily goofy. Despite that, Keith had to smile. It fit him, that goofiness. After a few more email exchanges, the two promised to meet up for dinner Sunday night at the Union.

Keith, thinking back to how obvious it was to Shiro that he was interested in Lance, made up his mind to play down his feelings. Hell, he didn’t even know Lance well yet, he might end up hating him. He also might not. Either way he had to tone down the attraction for professionalism's sake for now until he learned more about the cute fashionista.

* * *

The Union is fairly empty when Keith arrives, an unusual occurrence at the central part of campus where Starbucks and a plethora of admittedly expensive college delicacies such as pizzas and subs to-go are located.

The emptiness makes it easy to spot Lance. It also could be due to the fact that he had large sunglasses on indoors. Why? Keith figured the answer was  _ fashion, probably _ .

Making his way to the pizza area, Keith deliberates between the wings and cheese pizza, a timeless classic. Wings sound too good to pass up, though. Grabbing the mildest option, he checks out and makes his way to Lance. Thinking about the fact that he’d straight-up winked at Lance before made him pale slightly. Was that a mistake? Would he mention it?

Taking a seat across from him Keith isn’t sure where to start. Thankfully, or maybe not so thankfully, Lance started.

“Hey man, I’m Lance.” He began, pushing his sunglasses up so that they perched on top of his head. He was decked out in a seemingly simple white shirt with black horizontal stripes and black jeans, or were they leggings? Keith couldn’t quite tell.

“Keith.” Keith responded shortly,  curious about how their first meeting will go.Digging into his wings, Keith feels Lance's eyes on him.

Giving Keith a not-so-quick look-over, he asks “Do you know anything about fashion? Or modeling in general?”

“Um.” Looking down at his own ensemble for the day Keith is greeted by a red pullover hoodie with the Valor symbol on it. Admittedly, it could use a wash. He thought his jeans weren’t terrible, storebought a few months prior, washed the last time he visited Shiro’s place. The shoes he wore came from a cheap shoe place and were nothing spectacular, but didn’t show much wear or tear. “No? I mean, you didn’t have specifics about previous experience, so….”

“You don’t need to. Part of the challenge is working with people who are less, should I say, fashion-inclined.” Keith snorted at that term, Lance sounded pretty cocky about it. “It’s not a necessity, really, but I like a challenge once in awhile.”

Keith felt like he should be offended by that, and so he was. “If we’re going to be working together you’ve  _ got _ to be less dickish. No, I don’t know shit about fashion, but the flier you made said the position would be paid as long as I was free at the given times. I’m about as broke as a guy can be and I’d really love to be able to do the job and get this money without critiques on my daily wear. Especially when the focus should be on your work.. And don’t get me wrong, I’m just here for the money.”

“You sure it wasn’t my dazzling personality that convinced you?” Lance teases, despite being bitched out for his admittedly rude words.

“I’m as sure as you are cocky.” A complete lie. Lance still interested him and that’s part of why Keith stuck around. Not that he’d be able to admit to it. “I’m broke as hell, when am I getting that money?”

Lance huffs, but doesn’t deny that he’s being difficult. “I can give you half up front and half after we’re finished.Is that okay? If me being  _ dickish _ hasn’t changed your mind.”

“$150 when the challenge starts, $150 after?” Keith clarifies. “How do you even have that much money- wait, no, I really don’t need to know. I’ll do it. I can handle anything you throw at me.”

“Good. Now,” he steepled his fingers dramatically, “I have some things to send you so you’re at least a little prepared for what’s coming up. Do you have a FaceBook or something? I could use email but that's so not personalized and I need to get to know you better if we’re gonna be partners.” Not the smoothest way to get a cute guy’s FaceBook but hey, it’s progress, and technically true.

“I…. no?” Keith answers. “I’m not on any social media.”

“What?” Lance splutters. “Maybe that’s why Pidge couldn’t find you before.”

Keith furrows his brows in confusion. “Hold on, what’s a ‘Pidge?’”

“Don’t worry about it.” Lance answers shortly, regaining composure. “I’ll just email you the videos and stuff, it should help you get a feel of what we’re trying to accomplish. I’ll send some of the ideas I’ve drafted before too so you kinda get what I’m going for, not that you have to do much more than wear it. Could I, uh, get your number? In case something comes up.”

“Oh, I- yeah, it’s xxx-xxxx.” Keith rattles off the numbers quickly before adding, “I’ve got yours already.”

Lance’s face shoots up from his phone. “How?”

“From the contact list on the modeling information sheet.” Keith laughs, covering his mouth with his hand. “How else would I have gotten your email?”

“Duh, well, I’m an idiot.” Lance rubs his hands together anxiously, unable to stop his cheeks from heating up in embarrassment. “Do you have any questions about other stuff?”

“Kind of…. Well, everything, I guess?” Keith admits. Lance’s eyebrow raises, so Keith continues. “Isn’t modeling like… a woman thing?” Lance’s face turns scandalized so Keith puts his hands up, not meaning to offend him. “I mean, like, women’s fashion is the only thing that matters isn’t it? Men’s fashion doesn’t exist, really.”

“Just because it isn’t as popular in college doesn’t mean it's not a real thing,  _ Keith _ .” The emphasis on his name was so extra that Keith snorted. Almost able to contain it, his eyes widened when he realized Lance had heard the noise.

“Don’t.” Was his only warning.

Lance grinned, forgiving Keith’s fashion ignorance in favor of the absolutely adorable sound he’d just made. A light laugh bubbled out from him, getting louder and louder as his face got redder and redder. This guy was just too adorable.

Pulling himself together, Lance remembers the fact that Keith has winked at him at their first meeting. That had to have meant something, didn't it? Like Keith finding him attractive. No way. He had to have been misunderstanding, Keith might have just been messing with him.

No better time to run from his (cute) problems than now, his phone vibrates with a text from Hunk letting Lance know that he was back on campus. "Hey, I’ve got to go. I promised my buddy I’d meet him at the bus stop, he's coming back from a trip home. Well, to his girlfriend's house, but yknow."

Keith couldn't say he did know, having only had boyfriends, but he understood the sentiment. And the fact that Lance wanted to get away from him. "Yeah." He responds curtly, standing up and tossing his now empty box of wings.

"Hey, Keith?" Lance catches his attention once more. When Keith looks up Lance says "I'm looking forward to working with you." with real sincerity, a strong dynamic from the general awkwardness of their entire encounter. "I'll help you understand modelling, maybe you'll even enjoy it." He gives a quick mock salute before leaving the building via the exit closest to the bus stop.

Keith could only look on with confusion as a warm fondness for the designer overcame him. For his initial annoyingness, Lance was passionate and willing to work with Keith despite his misconceptions, which had to count for something.

* * *

T-twelve days until fashion week starts and Lance isn't sure how to go about getting to know Keith better. Hoping that hanging out in a casual setting might bring them together easier, Lance decides to ask Keith to hang with himself, Hunk and Pidge.

[Lance:] Want to come play video games with me n some buds?

[Mullet Keith:] sure, where/when/who

[Lance:] Altea Hall, room 314 at like six. & no1 you kno (yet) Does that work?

[Mullet Keith:] yeah. cya there

 

[Lance:] Okay SO

[Lance:] I MAY

[small fury:] what????

[Lance:] Have invited Keith to video game night.

[small fury:] about time u bring the boyfriend over to meet the fam

[Lance:] WaiT NO.

[Lance:] PIDGE NO.

[small fury:] pidge yes. ur the one who invited him when its in my room, congrats on digging ur own grave ;)

[Lance:] I trusted you!!!!!!

[small fury:] your mistake tbh, see you two at six

This may have been a bad decision. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for sticking with this so far! this chapter was a struggle for inspiration compared to chapter one but it's satisfying to finally post. ive got the majority of chapter three story boarded out, i just need to flesh out dialogue and tie the parts i do have fully written together. see you soon.  
> check the tumblr tag 'design a date fic' or find my blog @ [staarplatinum](http://staarplatinum.tumblr.com/) if youd like to bounce headcanons around c:


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oops i think this chapter is longer than the first two chapters combined?

At five twenty-five Lance wakes from an unplanned nap. Sometimes you just don't have time to make coffee and crash the moment you return from class, no biggie.

After checking the time and launching himself out of bed he rushes to brush his hair and wipe the sleepiness from his eyes. 

Usually one of the only times he dresses down, video game night is a casual affair, but seeing as Keith would be there Lance felt the need to keep up appearances. Not because of the pesky crush, but rather because they'd be partners for this fashion week project. Gotta stay fashionable. Yeah, something like that. But maybe Keith would think he's trying too hard if he looks good all the time. Would dressing down be a good idea? 

Fidgeting and tapping his fingers on the side of his leg anxiously, Lance finally pulls open his drawer and reaches in blindly for one of his few store-bought graphic tees. He'd make whatever he pulled out a Look somehow, that’s essentially his job.

Withdrawing the random shirt, he finds the Flash symbol staring back on a red background. Although he liked the hero enough to get the shirt, red really wasn't his color by itself. Who would he be if he couldn't think of a garment to compliment it nicely? Turning toward his overcrowded closet he pinpoints a well-worn flannel in checkered blues and black. One pocket has a hole in it that Lance has been entirely too lazy to fix, but otherwise it's a perfectly good top. Pulling on a new pair of skinny jeans that needed breaking in, he shimmies a bit and not bothering to put shoes on, grabs his DS, phone, and lanyard.

Sliding speedily down the hall in his socks, Lance presses the elevator button's down arrow repeatedly and impatiently. He is by no means late, but wants to get to Pidge's room before Keith did so he could hurl a few last minute threats at Pidge in case she was planning on pulling some shit tonight.

* * *

After an early dinner in the union with Shiro, the two part ways so that Keith can meet with Lance and his friends.

“Have fun, be safe.” Shiro teases as parting words, leaving Keith sputtering and blushing with a rushed “It’s not  _ like _ that” as an answer before he steps outside into the cool air.

Halloween is just around the corner, and the temperature was dropping to prove it. Soon, Keith’s face was red due to the cold rather than embarrassment. Pulling the collar of his jacket closer around himself, he ups his already brisk pace, excited at the prospect of seeing Lance again.

Double checking the room number on his phone, Keith takes the stairs rather than the elevator. With his own room being on the eighth floor, Keith cherishes the easy distance to the third floor. The first time the elevator broke was hell on his calves.

Face to face with a door he wasn’t sure belonged to Lance or one of his friends, Keith raises his hand to knock tentatively. Before he could do so, he heard laughter coming from the other side. Catching Keith’s interest, he tries listening in for a moment.

“That’s freakin’ gay, McClain.” an unfamiliar voice. “Catching feelings like that isn’t good for anyone.”

“Bi, Gunderson.” Definitely Lance. Keith couldn’t see anything but he practically felt the other's eye roll through the door.

“You get the idea.”

Okay, enough eavesdropping. That stuff was personal and while being casual banter between friends, not necessarily something Lance wanted to share with Keith just yet.

Knocking quickly, he wasn’t sure if he was heard on the other side of the door. It was then that he felt a hand on his shoulder.

Letting out a startled shout just as the door opened, Keith turned around to see a tall guy in a yellow tank top that said ‘suns out guns out.’

“Who- what?” Keith blurts out, confused.

Realizing that he’d startled Keith, the other man lets his hand fall to his side. “Sorry, man. The name’s Hunk.” He smiles gently. “I didn’t mean to scare you like that, I thought you knew I was there.”

“I didn’t know but thanks for apo-”

“HUNK!” Keith is interrupted and bumped into when a blue blur pushes between the two. 

The two embrace enthusiastically, Hunk even lifts Lance up for a moment before setting him down gently. That's a more intense hug then Keith has ever gotten and it startles him just watching it if he's honest.

"Its like you two are the ones in a relationship, not Hunk and Shay," a voice from behind Keith begins, "...not that anyone could stay away from you Hunk, you're a  _ dreamboat _ ."

"It's not like that, Pidge!" Ah, so  _ that's _ a Pidge. "It's guy love, that's all it is-"

"Guy love, he's mine I'm his!" Hunk continues without skipping a beat.

The two churn out an entire song performed right there in the hallway while Keith awkwardly stares, not sure what to do with himself since he doesn't understand the reference being made. He glances between the two as they switch turns singing, occasionally looking down the hall to see whether random passerby were seeing this. They were.

"Come in," Pidge invites as the two reach the end of the duet, "you'll get used to that."

"So it's like... a common thing?" Keith asks, following Pidge into her room.

The room is cramped, and filled with technology. A decently sized television sits atop the dresser with a number of gaming systems situated alongside it on the available space. A few posters featuring games were hung up and glow-in-the-dark stars were scattered across the ceiling. Clothes were tossed haphazardly in a hamper shoved in the corner, and there was no roommate in sight, though her side was immaculate and very very pink.

"Unfortunately." She replies, followed by a quick rebuttal from Lance.

"You love us though! Don't'cha?"

"Someone's got to. If I don't, who will?" She answers wittily, posing a question of her own.

Lance feigns a shiver, rubbing his arms. "Cold." 

Flopping down on a bean bag and making himself at home, Hunk takes out a DS and asks "What're we playing first? I only had time to grab my DS after practice but anything you have enough controllers for otherwise is fair game since we have an extra plays tonight."

"Smash?" Pidge suggests, grabbing her own DS from a side table.

Frowning, Keith admits, "I don't have anything newer than a Game Boy and even then I left it in my room."

"That's fine," Pidge passes him her console, "I've got it on Wii U as well, I'll play with that and you can use my DS, lemme sync everything up quick."

Despite never playing this version of the game before, Keith holds his own against the others and playing him was a challenge even for Lance. Nobody stood a chance against Pidges’ game knowledge and strategy though. She swept most of the rounds where all four of them participated, except a few upsets. Lance challenged Keith to numerous one-on-one matches and started to get excessively competitive when it was clear that their skill was on the same level. The final score between the two by the end of the night was 12 wins for Keith and 10 for Lance.

Lance and Pidge were perched on her bed while Keith and Hunk took the floor with their backs to the bed.

Checking the time, Keith is surprised to find that four hours had passed, it was just after ten. Yawning, he stretches his arms up, brushing against Lance’s leg for a moment before he brings them back down to rub at his eyes. He misses the momentary shock-caused blush on Lance’s face but Hunk and PIdge don’t.

“Hey Keith,” Keith hears from beside him, “what’s your major?”

“Despite knowing my major just hearing that question makes me nervous.” Keith looks from Hunk to the floor. “Too many people asking those questions when I was applying for scholarships and trying to make this whole thing work.” It was getting easier to open up to these people even after only spending a few hours with them.

“So what is it?” Lance butts in, now interested.

“Geology.” Keith admits.

“Rocks?” Lance asks incredulously, not waiting for any justification.

“I mean, not…. exactly.”

“Let the man live his life, Lance. We can’t all be _ artists _ like you.” Pidge scolds.

“Yeah, I bet that’s really cool. I took an early level one to get that gen ed out of the way my freshman year and it involves like topographical maps and really hands on stuff.” Hunk pauses to think for a moment. “There’s even that one rock the prof said we could lick-”

“Halite.” Keith couldn’t help specifying.

“Yeah. I didn’t try it, but hey, science you can lick without dying, pretty cool stuff.”

The door swings open then, and Pidge’s roommate enters. The last person Keith was expecting was Allura Alfor.

“Hello everyone.” She greets politely. “Oh! Keith Kogane, you’re here. It’s been a while.”

“Allura! Wait, last time we spoke you said your roommate’s name was…. Katie?” Keith can’t help but be confused. “Did something happen between you two?”

“No? I’d say we were on good terms.” She looks over toward Pidge and Keith follows her gaze.

“Pidge is a nickname.” Pidge pipes up. “You didn’t seriously think my given name was Pidge, did you?”

“It’s nice to see you again Allura. But, ah… I guess I did? I’ve heard names even more odd than ‘Pidge’ so i just figured your parents were one of those.” Keith awkwardly looks up at Pidge from his spot on the floor. She has the biggest grin ever. Hunk tried to be polite and hide his laugh but he couldn’t really help it from bursting forth. “Before you ask, I didn’t for a second believe your name was given.” Keith scolded. Sure, he was a fool but not enough of one to let ‘Hunk’ pass his radar.

“I’ve uh, gotta go.” Lance is barely able to speak above a mutter before sliding off the bed between the two on the floor and skirting past Allura and out the door.

“I-Is Lance okay?” Keith looks back up at Pidge, concern for the other written across his face.

“Not sure.” Pidge admits slowly, looking at the doorway where Lance had just disappeared.

Sending Lance a text to voice his concern, Keith types quickly, checking for spelling errors this time.

[Keith:] are you okay?

The message is read, but Lance doesn’t offer a response.

Pidge tries with some sort of success, but when Keith asks what’s up she tilts her phone away from him. “It’s fine. Give him some time.”

Feeling like this absolutely had something to do with him, Keith stands and bids the other three farewell. PIdge interrupts his attempt to leave, though.

“You don’t have to go. We’ve got another player now, right Allura?” Allura nods. “If you stick around a bit longer we can let Lance feel better.”

“Uh, sure?” It didn’t entirely make sense, but Keith did feel a bit more gaming might distract him from Lance’s worrying behavior.

\-----

Returning to his room in a frenzy after running up the stairs at a mad dash, he does his best to keep quiet when he notices his roommate is asleep.

Keith Fucking Kogane. Of course. Who else would he be? The K Kogane that haunted his first two years of college. The Kogane he could never fucking beat. Who never answered his emails even when they were to ask for help that would have bettered Lance and maybe even gotten him the top spot more than twice out of all exams. And here he was, part of Lance’s life and more attractive than he had ever considered.

When his phone buzzes he knows who it is before even looking. Once he does, though, he throws his phone onto his bed. “Of fucking course.”

Pulling his clothes off in a huff and switching into more comfortable clothes, Lance tries to calm down using breathing exercises he’d learned. Looking at himself in his sleepwear ensemble he sees sweatpants with the university logo on it, and a top that says ‘Main Bitch’ that Hunk got as a joke, but Lance legitimately enjoyed. Let’s be real, in an ideal situation, Lance is in fact the main bitch.

His phone vibrates from the bed and Lance reaches for it instinctively. It’s Pidge this time.

[small fury:] kogane, huh?

[Lance:] Yeah.

[small fury:] you going to be okay?

[Lance:] I think so. Anxiety, all that fun jazz.

Things like this have happened before and Pidge has a pretty good grasp on what’s making Lance worry at any given time. He’s thankful to have friends like that.

[small fury:] im sure theres more to the story

[small fury:] if u talk to him

[Lance:] Maybe. But like i cant believe its him y’know?

[Lance:] I struggle and suffer for two years.

[Lance:] Two years pidge!!

[Lance:] Two years and he never once acknowledged how close we were in score!

[small fury:] mayb it wasnt a competition for him tho

Lance gets mad at himself then. That may very well have been the case. Keith may just have been better and not haunted or worried by being the best in the ways Lance was. Maybe he just had the skills Lance lacked. The looks, too.

[small fury:] he seems p chill i doubt he meant anythin by it

[small fury:] i know its important to u, so u should talk with him about it

[Lance:] Maybe.

[small fury:] he’s still here…. If u wanna come back

[small fury:] fake being sick or something for now?

[Lance:] Okay.

It’s not like he had to fake anything, his stomach was in knots at this point and he felt nauseous when he realized how much he’d overreacted and worried for what’s probably nothing. All this worry for someone who probably hadn’t had any negative intentions. Maybe  _ he _ was the asshole in the situation.

Trudging his way back to the elevator this time, Lance returns to Pidge’s room and sees Keith, Hunk, and Allura duking it out in Mario Kart. They’re all sitting on the floor while Pidge perches on the bed where she was when he left.

“Hey, bud.” Pidge greets, patting at a spot on the bed beside her. When Lance sits down Pidge rubs small circles on his back until the round ends and the other three realize he’s back.

“Are you okay?” Keith asks, and Lance can’t hate him because there’s sincerity in his eyes. “We were worried about you.”

“Me?” Lance smiles a bit despite himself, it was nice to hear that Keith cared. “I’m just catching dorm plague, probably. I started feeling really shitty and cold, I grabbed some medicine back in my room.” He feels bad for lying to Keith, but he’d gotten used to covering for anxiety attacks in the past.

“If you’re cold, take my hoodie.” Keith offers. “You went back to your room and didn’t grab one, you must be ill.” Shimmying out of the same valor hoodie he’d been wearing the previous day, he passes it to Lance. He doesn’t react at first, so Keith tosses it onto his lap and turns back before anyone on the bed can catch his blush.

“Ugh, dorm plague is the worst. Don’t pass it on to me, man.” Hunk pretends to be grossed out, shrinking away.

Grabbing one of Pidge’s pillows, Lance hurls it at Hunk. “If you won’t take my sickness, take  _ that _ !”

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have our Lance back.” Pidge starts with a fake announcer voice as Lance pulls Keith’s hoodie over his head. “But Lance I know you remember what I told you about throwing  _ my _ pillows.”

“Shit” is all Lance can manage before her other pillow is smacked against his head, effectively ending the skirmish.

“Tonight was fun as always, but I’ve got an 8am and I would really prefer not to die so I’m gonna head out.” Hunk bids the others farewell. “It was nice meeting you, Keith. I hope to see you around.”

“Goodbye!” Allura cheerily sees him off, looking up from her phone. She’d been on it nonstop since Lance returned. He wondered what, or who, was so enthralling that she’d lost focus on video game night.

“I should probably go too.” Keith stands, shaky for a moment from sitting so long. “I’ve got an 8am too, and I’ve gotta walk across campus yet.”

Lance watches him go from the comfort of his hoodie, feeling Pidge’s shit-eating grin rather than seeing it. “Don’t say a thing, Gunderson.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so i swear there's fashion involved but this chapter soooooo got away from me because i made Lance's inadequacy a more important plot point than i meant to because i projected myself too much on the character. i promise next chapter Fashion Week will finally start, ive got that much written out.  
> as always, you can find me on tumblr @staarplatinum or in the tag 'design a date fic'  
> also im petty as hell and i refuse to post the next chapter until my roommate updates her fic so go read it and tell her you love it [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7695040/chapters/17531812) !!!


	4. Chapter 4

The next week passes by Lance in a blur as Keith becomes ingrained in his daily routine. He worked at coming to terms with who he thought Keith was and who Keith actually is, but hasn’t brought the issue up with him yet.

Keith had become fast friends with Pidge and Hunk, which Lance should have seen coming after Keith was able to ease himself into the conversation during video game night.

Between getting to know him, getting him acclimated to the ridiculous group antics, and preparing Keith and himself for Fashion Week, the day of the first challenge is upon Lance before he can get his feelings in order. Not to mention, he still had the other man’s hoodie.

Lance had even worn it out with Keith before and he either was supremely dense and didn’t notice, or just didn’t care to ask for it back. Either option is fine with him as long as he can wear the thing for a bit longer. At least until the smell fades.

Waking up to his alarm blaring, Lance is disoriented as usual, but for just a moment before the weight of the day hits him like a ton of bricks. Wiping the grogginess from his eyes, but still feeling the effect of only four hours of sleep, he pushes himself out of bed.

“Today’s the big day.” He announces to rouse himself since his roommate is gone and he didn’t have to worry that he was bothering anyone. His stomach twists into knots in anticipation for the week to come as he measures out his coffee and sets up the machine, ready to be fueled for the next few hours.

By the time he’s dressed in an ensemble he’d designed and created entirely himself, his coffee is ready. Pouring most of it into a thermos for later adorned with the phrase ‘first i do the coffee then i do the things,’ he pours the rest into a mug his little sister had made for him with a picture of them together on it. Pouring creamer into both containers like nobody’s business, Lance sips from the mug and places the cap on the thermos.

He unplugs his phone from its charger and sees that he’s got three messages.

[small fury:] knock ‘em dead mcclain 

 

[Mullet Keith:] good luck today, ill see u at 3

 

[hunktastic:] You’ve got this, Lance! I know you’ll have nerves but this is just another challenge you can overcome with your mad ‘tailoring’ skills ヾ(´∀｀* )

The positive texts were a great mood boost as Lance downs the rest of his coffee, but it doesn’t alleviate all of his fears. He nabs his and Keith’s information sheets to hand in to the judges before the challenge starts and double checks his supplies. After zipping his backpack and grabbing his thermos, Lance makes his way down on the elevator and towards the building he’ll essentially be spending the next 168 hours of his life.

His look consists of sleek gray pants, a simple blue shirt, and a light brown sweater overlaid with a gray scarf. He’d considered wearing a hat that Hunk had knit him for Christmas last year, but he’d decided to go with clothing choices that he’d made and designed himself in case anyone wanted to doubt his skill.

It’s as if a switch flips when he walks into the building because he suddenly starts feeling calm. He did have skill. He knew what he was doing. He’d done this before, and he could do it again. He could do better and maybe even win. Not to mention that if that does happen, he’ll have Keith by his side.

Handing over the forms and going into the room with the other models, he’s dismayed to see that he’s the last to arrive. While not being late by any means, it’s a bit intimidating to have everyone’s eyes on him as he enters.

Taking a seat beside Allura he greets her with a quick “Hey.”

“Hello Lance.” she grins at him. “You ready?”

“Yeah, actually. Not gonna have a repeat of last year.”

Allura’s face softens as she recalls the events leading up to last year’s incident. “Glad to hear.”

It’s then that one of Lance’s instructors walk into the room. All twenty students go into business mode, sitting up straighter in their seats and paying attention immediately.

“Hello, everyone.” The instructor greets. “As you all know, only twenty of you were selected for this year’s fashion week, either based on last year’s merit, or by making a convincing argument in the application process at the beginning of the year.”

Lance grimaced at that, he’d had to appeal his case and essentially beg for a spot after last year’s falling out between himself and his first model.

“As usual, there will be no eliminations because the point is to see your skill, but there will be a tiered grading system.” She pauses, making sure the three freshman involved are paying attention. They are, eyes wide and drinking in every bit of information they can, in awe at the prospect of winning something like this.

“The top three designers by the end of the week will be featured in a top tier magazine with their models and personal choice of winning look and get all the social perks that come with that, very important stuff.”

“The remaining seventeen of you will get... nothing in particular. Perhaps a shot at next year, but that’s up to you and your ability to perform this week.” Her gaze lingers on Lance just a bit too long and he looks down at the ground, avoiding eye contact.

“Your supplies will be free to use and replenished each day thanks to an anonymous benefactor that has funded this challenge since it’s beginning. You’ll all have thirty minutes to sketch and plan out your outfit, and have another thirty minutes to get what you need from rooms 110 and 112 next door after I announce today’s challenge. Your work spaces are labeled with your name in this room, you may go to them and set up necessary things now.”

Nobody needed any more prompting, they were all eager to start. Standing and making his way towards the tables, Lance spots his work space. Second row middle table with two on his left and two on his right. There was a gently used dress form at every space. Spreading out his supplies across the top of the table lance looks up at the instructor who seems just about ready to let them know the theme for this challenge.

“I hope you’re ready, because your theme for today is royalty. Nothing more specific than that, use your ingenuity to create something that reflects the idea of royalty. Good luck.”

Lance opens his sketchbook and quickly starts jotting down ideas. Where oh where did he want to go with this?

The simple way with cape and garb, maybe try to fashion a crown of sorts? It might be just classic enough to work, but he didn’t want to make it feel too obvious. He sketches that idea anyway, there was time to alter the ideas throughout the next half hour, and he could alter it later in the day if he really felt the need.

He has nineteen other people to compete with and he has to create something that stands out against the crowd. He taps his pencil against the table, wracking his brain for ideas and inspiration.

It’s then that the idea strikes. He’s in an ancient civilizations class this semester and they’d just covered Rome. He could use Roman emperors as inspiration. Doesn’t get more royal than that. Lance is honestly surprised that the idea didn't come to him sooner, he may have been overthinking it due to nerves. It can be quite simplistic if he focuses on the toga aspect, but it also lends itself to have his own stylistic flair with additions. Exactly what he needs.

Sketching out the basic layout of how he wants the garb to sit on Keith, he balks. Despite now not being a good time to revel in the realization that Keith is at his complete mercy for clothes, he takes a moment to let it sink in. Regaining an air of professionalism, Lance completes his basic design and starts sketching his ideas on how to adorn the edges of the piece with his own style.

“Your thirty minutes of prep time are over.” The instructor announces. “You may now get your materials.” She’d unleashed chaos.

Students, including Lance, scramble to exit the room and make it over to rooms 110 and 112 in search of fabrics and materials that could be used to match the designs they’d come up with.

* * *

Once the challenge began the models are left in the dark creativity-wise, they have no idea what the challenge is or what they should be expecting going in to meet with their corresponding designer. All Keith knows for sure is that he isn’t allowed to contact Lance in any way electronically after 8am and that his measurements would be taken later when the outfit had to be altered. It’s all in Lance's hands for now.

Keith's own task is to attend his classes for the day, which were all morning ones, as the fashion students worked. After those are done, he is to stay in a room with the other models until the fitting at 3.

Class was a breeze despite a quiz in math because the professor didn’t think enough people were taking the work seriously. Keith found it all very easy, though not nearly as interesting as geology. Once he handed in the quiz Keith stopped by his room to exchange his math book for his laptop and sketchbook. He has a few things to complete before his drawing course meets next and doesn’t figure he'll be socializing with the other models much. Plenty of time to catch up on his assigned work between now and 3:00.

Plugging in his headphones and putting his music on shuffle, Keith sends Shiro a quick text to let him know he’s on his way.

[Keith:] im on my way ill b there in 10

He got a response a few minutes later as he’s walking across campus.

[Shiro:] I’ll see you then, Keith.

[Keith:] has anyone told u u text like a dad

Keith couldn’t help but poke fun at Shiro and his prim and proper usage of text messages, it’s not like he didn’t understand shorthand, he just never used it for some reason.

[Shiro:] You do, on a daily basis.

[Keith:] like i dont even have a dad and i kno u text like one

Deciding he’d given Shiro enough shit, he pockets his phone at the same time a song changed. The tune switched between an old My Chemical Romance song brought back for the tenth anniversary to FT Island’s Loose. It’s that tune that Keith walks into the model’s waiting room listening to.

The only familiar face he’s met with is Shiro.

“Hey, man.” Shiro greets, and Keith can tell he’s in a good mood.

“What’s with the grin?” Keith teases gently, not wanting to upset his positive mood but genuinely curious. Waiting for an answer, he pulls out his sketchbook and starts on some anatomy practice.

When he doesn’t get any sort of answer, Keith looks up at Shiro. He seems lost in thought, brows furrowed.

Keith tries to bring him back to the present. “You okay?”

“No, yeah. I’m good.” Shiro answers quickly. “It’s just hard to talk about and explain, I guess?”

“Try me.” Keith offers a small encouraging smile, setting his book aside.

“Since the-” he swallows his words, visibly hesitant to go on. “Since the accident, with my arm and all that?” Keith nods. They’d been friends in high school, when it happened.

“All this?” he gestures widely with his prosthetic arm. “I never thought that anyone would look at me and think I’m someone meant for this, you know?”

That, honestly, broke Keith’s heart. Shiro, despite being completely ridiculous, is an amazing person worth so so much to not only Keith, but the rest of the group. It hurt to hear the words of self doubt come from someone who's usually the one doling out support. But Keith understood what he meant.

“It means a lot that Allura looked at me and saw someone of model status.” Shiro admits. “I know it’s just a college thing we’re involved in but it’s helping my confidence still, years after everything the crash.”

“If she wins I’ll be representing her work in the magazine spread and, I don’t know... I just hope that anyone like me who has missing limbs or don’t fit into the stereotypical model category can see themselves when they see me.”

“You want them to know that they still have a shot?” Keith is impressed at Shiro’s ability to take something that’s been weighing so heavily on him and make it into an opportunity for others.

Shiro’s smile widens. “That’s it. It’s not like everyone struggles as much without an arm as I did and continue to do, but for those who are troubled by it I’d like to think I’m helping lift their spirits even a little bit.”

Patting Keith’s shoulder and effectively ending that conversation, he opens his phone. “Hey, did Lance make you set up a FaceBook yet?”

“Um, no? Is that a plan of his?”

“Yes. He’s determined. Allura informed me last night that he tried having Pidge track you down when you first showed interest in the model position- Don’t give me that look, she couldn’t find anything on you since you’re such a social media recluse.”

“None of what you’re saying is making me want to get one.” Keith points out.

“Lance has his ways.” Shiro’s voice is a warning, as if speaking from experience. “You may be thinking differently after he brings it up with you.”

“Sure.” Keith rolls his eyes before getting back to work with his sketchbook.

* * *

Lance has spent his time so far working on the headpiece, prepping the main fabric, and finding appropriate shoes. The headpiece is designed to mimic the classic olive leaf design. He didn’t have olive leaves specifically to work with, so he’s making do with flower leaves that were made available to him in the materials room. Using those and a luckily green wire he knocks it out of the way right at the beginning so he wouldn’t have to worry later.

From there he easily sews and prepares the garment using the machine and working off of his plans. He finds that his plans for the embroidery are slightly impractical, so he has to take some time to redesign it.

With two more hours to go before fitting and their half hour lunch break already over with, Lance is buckled down and ready to finish. The real struggle with his garment is the embroidery along the edges. It was intricate enough that he had to do it by hand, which would show his craftsmanship, but was damn annoying to do so repeatedly. At least it was more feasible than his initial pattern idea.

He’s got about a fourth of it to go when his professor announces that the models are on their way in. Looking up curiously as he inspects the other students’ models he’s jarred when he sees someone enter the room that he hadn’t been expecting.

Nyma.

Her long blonde pigtails bounce as she enters the room, jaw working at some bubblegum. Her eyes flit rover Lance but he can see that she doesn’t spare him a second glance. He’s not surprised, after their falling out last year. Her betrayal, more like, but now isn’t the time to lament on it.

Keith finally appears, followed by Shiro. He finds Lance, making his way over quickly, seemingly weary of the other students and their work.

“Hey.” Lance greets lamely once Keith is at the table, looking expectant.

“Hey.” Keith responds, just as lame. “What’ve you got for me? I have no idea what theme we’re going with so it’s on you.”

“O-oh!” Lance stutters. “The theme! That’s right, it’s ah, royalty. Here, let me just finish this section quick. It’ll take like thirty seconds, just strip down and I’ll have it on you in a sec.”

Lance is back at his space working and misses the bright blush that spreads across Keith’s face before he realizes the context of Lance’s words. It’s in the job description, but hearing Lance phrase it that way had thrown him off kilter. He steps out of his clothes, finding that being in his underwear felt less awkward once he saw the other models doing the same.

Swinging himself off of his chair with the apparel Lance gives a grand “Ta-da!”

“It’s… a purple tablecloth?” Keith’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. Where’s the fashion? Lance had to be pulling his leg. “Funny, where’s the actual clothes?”

“Seriously, dude.” The thing is, Lance does look dead serious. For once. “Here, let me show you.”

He takes the toga and lays it across Keith, pinning it here and there to stay. Whether his gaze strayed while he did so? Nobody could prove anything. “See? The theme being royalty, I thought Roman Emperor. Creative, huh?”

Keith nods, unable to form words when he sees Lance in his element, excited about what he’s doing and ready to share his ideas.

Setting the crown on top of Keith’s head, Lance pulls out a handheld mirror. “I think you’re looking pretty darn good, Keith. Purple just may be your color.”

“Yeah.” Keith can’t help but agree. For something that he mistook for a tablecloth, he had to say that the way the fabric sat looked good, for Roman royalty.

The half hour fitting with the models is more than enough time for Lance to insure that everything is looking good. He’s ahead of the game compared to some of the others due to the simplicity of his outfit. Once Keith leaves again, Lance continues working on the embroidery of the edges and finishes with time to spare by the time the models are called back in for the runway portion at six o’clock.

* * *

Dressed in more purple than he’s ever worn in his life, sandals he never would have counted on himself wearing, and a crown made of leaves to top it all of, Keith enters the runway and its blinding lights.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shoutout to [Haley](http://hazzamarie.tumblr.com/) for suggesting keith listen to 'emo stuff' and [Alexia](http://asingledistantrose.tumblr.com/) for giving kpop suggestions to add variety to his music taste!!  
> as usual, thank you so much for reading, please let me know what you think!  
> you can find me on tumblr at [staarplatinum](http://staarplatinum.tumblr.com/) if youd like


End file.
